“‘Well,’ interposed Owen, ‘I tell you what we might do.’”
“No, no!” exclaimed Owen, sincerely, “I don’t think I should have any of that. I only helped you; it was your camera.”
“But, Owen,” insisted Allan, “you did a good deal more than help me; you really did most of the work. Anyway, I couldn’t enjoy the money unless you shared it. It wouldn’t seem fair.”
“But I couldn’t feel comfortable, either, if I took it.”
“Why not, Owen? You could use it getting some new stuff, and—”
“Well,” interposed Owen. “I tell you what we might do. Ever since I saw those rooms in your coach-house, I have been thinking that it would be a fine idea for us to have them for a club—a camera club, if your father would let us have them. Now, if you really think you couldn’t be happy with all that money, why not take some of it and spend it fixing up the rooms and getting things for a club?”
“Splendid!” cried Allan. “It wouldn’t seem so good as giving to you, Owen; but it would be great to have a club, and we could all have the use of better materials than we could afford to have on our own account.”
“Besides,” continued Owen, “McConnell was with us, and he would feel badly if he wasn’t counted in. He told me to-day his brother was going to give him money for a camera next Saturday, and it would be right to count him in as a—what do you call it?—charter member of the club. After that the others who came in would have to pay an initiation fee.”
“Yes,” Allan assented, “we must have McConnell.”